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today, where the mere thought of speaking that brought ice to her veins. Those nicks in that honeymoon period with Rodney’s beloved pen knife named Ronda were warning kisses, teaching her that she was always wrong, and he was always right. Out of all of Rodney’s girlfriends, Clarisa hated Ronda the most.
“Okay, stop holdin’ me like that and get off,” Rodney said.
He parked between two big pickup trucks, right
on the white line of two spaces. Clarisa thought people who did that were beyond annoying, but Rodney deserved the best, so she never got too mad when he did it. She mostly just didn’t want to fight him about it; she would rather let some angry owner of the truck that would pull in after Rodney do it for her.
Clarisa released his jacket and climbed off the motorcycle with a swing of her legs as she took off her helmet, making her hair cling to the inside. The static caused her hair to reflect her inward desire. She wanted to squeeze her head back into that matte black helmet and hide her face from Rodney’s searching gaze.
With a rough grunt, Rodney began to walk inside. That was the only indicator Clarisa ever got to follow, but she had learned to follow his silent demands. Her teal-flowered cowboy boots dug into the dirt as she dragged her feet after him. The bright red neon glow of the sign reading “Starlight Diner” burned her vision. It made Clarisa feel even more sick, and she broke
out into a cold sweat even as they entered the warm building.
“Hello, how many will it be?” the hostess greeted. The hostess’s voice was perky, and her bright demeaner matched the bubblegum pink, sixties’-era dress the diner had shoved her in. Her pep made Clarisa’s teeth grind. Clarisa knew it was fake, but it made Rodney smirk behind his neatly trimmed beard and so it made her blood boil. She slipped her hand into Rodney’s and he shot her a glare, removed his hand, and nodded.
Clarisa sighed and reached behind her back to grasp that cold metal of her gun—yet another thing Rodney’s other gals had owned before her. It was time to put on their show, their choreographed display of love for the world to watch.
“Get down on the ground and put your arms behind your backs!” Rodney yelled.
“And put your wallets in front of ya and you—you get the money from the register,” Clarisa said after him.
Clarisa’s gun pointed at the workers while Rodney’s was pointed at the patrons. Everyone dropped down faster than bullets, adrenaline rushing through the diner like a shot in the air. Clarisa started to gather all the money and wallets into a bag while Rodney circled the hostess.
“Aren’t ya a pretty thing,” Rodney grinned, kneeled next to the girl, and lifted her nametag. “Sydney is
an awfully cute name.” Clarisa, distracted from the wrinkled man in the corner that was hunched over his phone, whipped around and glared at Rodney from across the diner.
“Stop talkin’ to her.”
“What?” Rodney turned around slowly. His gun fixated now on Clarisa’s upper shoulder as his nostrils flared in anger. Clarisa had snapped, though, and he had never openly flirted with another women in front of her before.
“Stop flirtin’ with that girl!” Clarisa’s shriek echoed in the silent diner.
“Do not talk to me that way!”
“I can talk to you however I want! I would be better off without you, Mam says so, and I don’t know why I ain’t listen to her till now. I could shoot you right now and be free of you!”
“You ain’t got the guts to shoot me, little girl. Ya don’t think I don’t know your safety is always on? You’re weak. Now come here, apologize, and stop pointin’ my own gun at me,” Rodney laughed out.
The ring of police sirens echoed in the distance and Clarisa’s eyes became wild. The old man had called the cops during their fight.
“Crap! This is all your fault, Clarisa! Stop being an idiot and let’s go before I kill ya right here. We’ll deal with your punishment later,” Rodney said.
Clarisa backed away from him, shaking hands holding tight on her gun. Rodney’s tight smile made his love pump through her veins like a drug, altering her mind and reasoning. Her breathing sped up and when she looked down her vision went red. In her wide blue eyes, her hands were dripping blood.
The echo of the safety being clicked off boomed in Clarisa’s head over the sound of sirens. She lifted the gun and a single shot rang out in the diner.
Clarisa was finally free. She died with the neon lights of the diner’s sign reflecting in her eyes, making them twinkle like stars.r
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